


The Princess Diaries

by kinky_kneazle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinky_kneazle/pseuds/kinky_kneazle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has work that he loves, a daughter he adores and a civil relationship with his daughter's father. His life's set. But when Draco announces he's getting married and his little girl starts asking questions about why her dads aren't together, Harry has to figure out whether what he has is enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Princess Diaries

**Author's Note:**

> With love to F for both the beta and for being my model of a wonderful father. Mysterious prompter, you asked for a Draco that makes Harry work for it, but I couldn't manage that without turning Harry into a jerk. I'm sorry! Also, opinions of characters in this work are not necessarily the opinions of the author :D Written for the Harry/Draco Mpreg Fest.

The small flame-shaped tattoo that had appeared on his wrist the morning after Beltane woke Harry when it started burning. _His_ loud exclamation woke several of his roommates, but he waved them back to sleep with a murmured, "Sorry. Nightmare."

But it wasn't a nightmare. It was a sharp, intense pain and he felt like his arm was on fire. He gritted his teeth and clutched his arm for a few minutes wondering if he should go see Madam Pomfrey, but then it passed. He collapsed back onto his bed and tried to go to sleep. Just as he was dozing off the pain started again, and this time it seemed to be calling him, dragging him to be somewhere else.

So Harry did what he had to do, what he'd always done. He followed his instinct and slipped out under cover of his invisibility cloak. The pain eased as he reached the common room, and he considered turning around until his wrist burned again, more painful than before.

He wrenched open the portrait and started running through the halls, not caring that the portraits could hear him go. A panicked feeling was building in his gut and when he pushed open the door to Myrtle's bathroom, wand in hand, his heart was almost beating out of his chest.

Malfoy was standing at the sink, and the pain he was experiencing was clear on his face. His face was contorted as he fought back a scream, letting only a horrible, strangled growl escape from his lips. What was more astounding was his belly. He was doubled over it, clenching it with both hands, but it was clearly larger than it should be. In fact, if Malfoy wasn't male, Harry would be sure he was pregnant.

Suddenly Malfoy's face relaxed and the pain in Harry's wrist let up as well.

"Malfoy?"

"What are you doing here?" Malfoy asked, a look of sheer panic on his face. "Go awa-ungh."

He doubled over again and the pain in Harry's wrist shot up to unbearable levels.

"Potter, I am going to fucking _kill_ you for doing this to me, do you understand? Cruciatus will have nothing on the pain I will put you through. So help me Merlin, I will pull your balls off and give them to Lovegood for ear-rings."

Harry finally realized he had to do something. " _Expecto Patronum!_ Headmaster, we need you in Myrtle's bathroom now. It's an emergency!" He watched Prongs flee through the wall and turned back to Malfoy.

"Shouldn't you be on the ground or something, Malfoy? Lying on your back?"

"It hurts more. I want to walk, but-argh!"

Harry was across the room in a flash, slipping his shoulder underneath Malfoy's arm and supporting the blond as they walked around the room. "You need to breathe. Go 'hee hoo! Hee hoo!'"

Draco looked at him like he was absolutely insane but Harry just nodded and kept making the silly sounds he'd seen on many Muggle movies, hoping it would do something for Malfoy as well.

The pain stopped for a brief moment and almost immediately started up again and this time Malfoy couldn't stop the scream that echoed through the bathroom.

Draco's legs began to collapse underneath him and Harry moved quickly, slipping his arms around the other boy's chest and supporting him from behind. That was when he saw the flash of silver ink on his neck.

Harry's mind flashed back to nine months ago. Firewhiskey. Hermione and Ron disappearing through the fire. More Firewhiskey. And the boy. He was masked – they all were – but Harry remembered sandy brown hair, hazel eyes and a long, slim body that wrapped around him and pulled him toward the ground. He remembered clasped hands and breathless pleas. He remembered tight heat and the feeling of someone falling apart in his hands.

Most of all he remembered kissing a silver dragon inked onto the boy's shoulder.

"It was you. On Beltane."

"Not now, Potter!" Draco said through gritted teeth.

"This is…how? Whu?"

"I _asked_ if you'd used a protection spell. You didn't say you hadn't."

"I thought you were joking. Men can't get pregnant!"

"Anyone can get pregnant on Beltane if the magic is strong enough. But don't worry. I'm ripping your balls off when this is over so you'll never get someone pregnant again! ARGH!" The scream that was ripped from Draco's throat was the worst sound Harry had ever heard.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ Get here now!" He knew he sounded terrified, but he _was_ terrified, and Dumbledore needed to be here.

Suddenly the room was silent except for Harry's own labored breathing and Harry looked down to find Draco had passed out.

"No, no, no, Draco. Wake up. You have to wake up, I can't use _reenervate_ because I don't know if it will harm you. So you need to wake up on your own." Draco's eyes fluttered open and Harry's relief doubled at the sound of Dumbledore's voice outside the door.

"Severus? What are you doing here?"

"Myrtle fetched me. What are you doing here?"

"Harry's patronus. Do you know what this is about?"

"No, but if they're involved it can't be good."

"Stop chatting and GET IN HERE!" Harry yelled seconds before another contraction hit and he clutched Draco to him and gritted his teeth as Draco's fingers dug painfully into his thighs. Dumbledore and Snape burst through the door and both stopped dead still.

"Is he-?" Snape asked.

Dumbledore recovered first. "We'll discuss how you missed one of your upper level student's being pregnant after this is dealt with."

"He needs the infirmary," said Harry.

"I don't think there's time. But we do need Poppy." Dumbledore called a house elf to him and sent it to get Madam Pomfrey. It appeared seconds later, holding her hand.

"Oh, my!"

"Madam Pomfrey, please help," Harry said.

"Of course. You're doing a good job there, Harry. I need you to keep supporting him." Harry nodded quickly. "I have to do a C-section, so I'll have to numb you from the waist down, Draco. Are you ready?"

"What's a C-section?"

Draco's panicked eyes flitted between Snape and Dumbledore but Harry was the one who answered. "It's a Muggle operation. Just a little incision on your belly so Madam Pomfrey can lift the baby out."

"Incision? As in cutting my belly open?!" Draco's voice became high-pitched until Madam Pomfrey pointed her wand at him casually. A calming spell hit him and Harry quickly adjusted his seat as Draco slumped in his arms.

It happened quickly after that. Severus was sent for blankets and towels, Dumbledore was drafted to help and in minutes Harry was cradling his daughter in his arms.

"What's he doing here?" Snape asked when it was all over.

"It's his. _She's_ his."

"She's _ours_ ," Harry said, shifting so that he could hand their daughter to Draco.

"McKenzie," Draco said. Harry raised an eyebrow. "It means fire-born."

"McKenzie."

 

 _This is the first diary entry of McKenzie Potter-Malfoy, aged nine and a bit. I don't have much time to write since I have a big game on today, and Daddy's coming to watch. Then he and Uncle Neville are taking me out for dinner. I asked if Dad could come as well, but Daddy said no. He wanted it to be a family night. I pointed out that Dad_ is _family, and it made Daddy frown and Uncle Neville look sad so I shut up again and invited them to the game._

The second half had just started when Malfoy finally showed up, hand held tightly in Neville's. Harry frowned even as he saw Mac waving happily at them both, taking her eyes off the ball.

"Eyes on the game, Mac!" he called. It wasn't that Mac's Muggle friends didn't know she had two dads, but did Malfoy always have to cling to Neville like a bloody vine? Plus, the git was late. They'd missed Mac scoring in the first half and he knew it was Malfoy's fault because Neville would never upset her. He met Malfoy's eyes for a moment then turned back to his coaching duties, reminding Britta and Phoebe to stay back and yelling some encouragement to little Lizzie who was scared of the ball.

He avoided looking at the two men on the other side of the pitch and instead watched his little girl running around the field. He didn't know how he and Malfoy had managed it; despite the antagonism that still flowed freely between them, their daughter was a perfect and beautiful amalgamation of the two of them. People told him that she looked like him, but he couldn't look at her and not see Malfoy. Sure her hair was black, but it was neat and fine and hung dead straight from the pony tail that was keeping it off her face. He knew if he could see them, her grey eyes would be flashing in determination as she ran forward towards the ball. She had avoided the pointy Malfoy chin, thank Merlin, but her body was slight, almost fragile looking, in a way that belied her strength and reminded her of Malfoy in his first few years at Hogwarts.

He held his breath as she slid through the mud, her foot connecting with the ball and directing it straight past the goalkeeper. "YES!" He glanced at Malfoy then and saw Neville had his hands cupped over his mouth and was whooping loudly. Malfoy's reaction was more subdued but his happy smile and enthusiastic clapping spoke volumes. They shared a look of pride before Harry tried to get his girls to concentrate on the game again.

When the final whistle blew Mac ran over to hug him before dashing back to Malfoy to celebrate her victory. Harry walked over to shake hands with the opposition coach and could hear their conversation.

"Daddy, I'm not a princess!"

"Well, not with that much mud, you aren't. And if you get it on my suit, you'll be sorry."

Harry glanced to his side to see Mac launch herself around his waist and he could hear Malfoy mutter, "Insufferable brat." He tried to hide a smile.

"Your girl's too good for the rest of us, Harry. A real talent with the ball, that one," the other coach was saying.

"Thanks, Phil. Your keeper made some great saves today."

"Yeah, she's got some talent as well. Oh, look out. Your fan's here."

Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw Lizzie's mother walking towards him. The woman's breasts were spilling out over her top and her skirt barely covered her buttocks.

"Isn't she cold?" asked Neville, wandering over to join them.

"Some things are more important than goose pimples and blue skin: impressing Mr. Harry Potter," Phil said.

"My daughter's other father is _right there_. It should be obvious I don't swing that way," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Harry! Wonderful game! And wonderful to see you."

"Nice to see you as well, Mrs. Fitzroy," Harry said, removing her hand from his arm.

"I'm making spaghetti for Lizzie tonight. Would you like to join us? She'd love it if you came along."

"I'm sorry, Mac and I have plans."

"No we don't. I'm going out to dinner with Daddy and Uncle Neville."

Harry flicked a glare in Malfoy's direction. He didn't remember that. "And I'm going along, isn't that right, Draco?"

"But Daddy said –"

"Did you spoil your Dad's surprise, Mac? He wasn't supposed to know we were going out."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. If there was one thing you could count on, it was that Malfoy would jump in with a well-placed lie whenever needed. He was also not above sending pointed looks at his daughter and Harry could almost see the realization hit.

"Harry's coming –"

"Uncle Neville? Can you tell me what those flowers over there are?"

"Of course." Neville swung Mac onto his back and they wandered over to some bloody roses which were possibly the worst cover ever, but it looked like Neville knew the history of each different one so it wasn't such a stupid question after all.

"Oh. You still eat as a family."

"Of course," Draco said with a somewhat evil smile. "We are a family."

"It's nice that you have a good relationship, Harry. Lizzie's dad just picks her up and drops her off. He doesn't want anything to do with me."

"I wonder why," Malfoy muttered and Harry jabbed him with an elbow.

"Well, we just need to pick up the equipment. Were you going to help us, Mrs. Fitzroy?" He eyed her stilettos and was unsurprised when she made a hasty exit.

"I'm not going to help you either, Potter."

"Then just walk with me, Malfoy," he said, stalking off and trying to ignore the way the git moved gingerly through the muddy field. "Isn't Mac meant to be with me tonight? We've got dinner at the Burrow."

"I talked to you about this two weeks ago."

"I don't remember."

"You were sanding. You told me you were listening, but I should have known you were just saying 'ah-ha' every time I paused."

Harry blushed. He did have a tendency to do that when he was in his workshop. "Well, can't you take her to dinner some other time? It's Victoire's birthday."

"My parents are only visiting for the weekend, and this was the only night they had free." Harry kicked the abandoned ball towards his bag and gritted his teeth. "I really did ask you, Harry."

Harry. It was the word that always got Malfoy his own way. "Fine. Enjoy your dinner. I'll pick her up from school on Monday."

"Thanks, Potter."

 

 _It's not that I don't love Uncle Neville. I do. I still remember when we were living at Hogwarts. He'd take me out to the greenhouses and let me help plant things and get all muddy and send Daddy crazy. I'd just like to live with Dad and Daddy at the same time. Is that too much to ask?_

Since he didn't have Mac with him, Harry overindulged Saturday night. Fleur was pregnant again and the boys toasted the future little Weasley. And the current Weasley. And McKenzie Potter-Malfoy. And Mrs. Weasley. And pretty much everyone they knew.

It was late when he finally dragged himself out of bed. The smell of bacon and eggs turned his stomach and he called out to Kreacher as he walked through the kitchen door. "No breakfast, Kreacher. I'm not feeling well!"

"It's for me, Dad." Mac was sitting at the kitchen table scribbling into a book.

Harry dropped a kiss on the top of her head and wandered over to the medicine cabinet. After a couple of seconds he found a hangover potion and dropped it down, waiting for the familiar feeling of absolutely nothing happening.

"Honestly, Snape has either lost his touch, or this damn potion was designed to make lots of money and do absolutely nothing. It's probably made from tomato juice, tabasco and raw eggs."

"Why would anyone make a potion out of that?"

"It's a Muggle remedy for after you've had too much alcohol."

"Why did you have too much alcohol?"

"We were celebrating. Aunt Fleur is going to have another baby."

"That's great news! I'll have to send her a note."

"Now." He sat down and started helping himself to the piles of bacon, eggs and sausages in the middle of the table. "What are you doing here? I thought I wasn't going to see you until tomorrow afternoon?"

After the war, when he and Draco had moved into separate residences, they had connected Mac's two bedrooms by floo with a charm that allowed her to go between the rooms as long as a responsible adult was in the house. It allowed her to see her parents whenever she wanted, though it occasionally led to awkward situations, like a nine-year-old in the house when you're hungover. Or, on one occasion, a six-year-old walking into your bedroom when last night's conquest was still in the shower. As she'd gotten older he'd noticed that she used the floo when she couldn't talk to him and wanted to talk to Malfoy, or vice versa.

"Mac," he prompted when she didn't answer. "What's wrong?"

"Daddy's getting married."

Harry, in a moment of suaveness or self-control or something, avoided spraying his coffee across the table and managed to swallow.

"Married?"

"He took us to some fancy restaurant where all the food tasted yuck and was smothered with sauce and made me sit next to grandmother so I'd use my right knife and fork and then told us that he and Uncle Neville were getting married on the summer solstice."

"Well, that's great for him. So why do you sound so grumpy and unhappy? You love French sauces." Mac ignored him in favour of stuffing scrambled eggs into her mouth. "And I thought you loved Uncle Neville as well."

"I do! It doesn't mean I want him to be my dad. _You're_ my dad."

"And I always will be, love. But don't you want your father to be happy?"

"Yes," she mumbled. "But why can't he be happy with you?"

"Oh, Princess." Harry moved around the table to take his daughter in his arms. "We were never together. We'd kill each other. But just because he loves Uncle Neville, it doesn't mean he doesn't love you."

"I know _that_ , Dad. I'm not some kid."

"Of course you're not. You're all grown up, and too fast at that." She pushed him away as he peppered kisses over her head. "I'm going to go let your father know you're here, then how 'bout you help me in the workshop for the day."

"Okay!"

Harry went to the public floo and shouted 'Malfoy Manor!'. Unfortunately, spinning through the floo did nothing for his queasy stomach and nor did the person waiting for him at the other end.

"Potter. You couldn't put clothes on? I can't believe my granddaughter is being raised by such a barbarian."

Harry felt his stomach retch and held out one hand, the other going to his mouth.

"A drunken barbarian? Honestly, could you be any more bourgeois?"

Harry concentrated on breathing through his mouth until the nausea passed. "Good morning, Lucius. Always a pleasure to see you. Is Draco around?"

"Honestly, Potter," Malfoy's voice came from behind him. "You couldn't even pull a top on?"

Harry suddenly realized he had on pyjama pants and not much else.

"You look like you slept on a park bench, and you smell like you shared it with an alcoholic hobo."

"Hi Neville!" Harry said to the man beside Draco. "Congratulations, though I don't know what you see in him."

"Thanks, Harry." Neville grinned.

"Can I borrow you for five seconds, Malfoy?"

"Sure."

There was a small antechamber to the apparition room and Draco led him in there.

"Mac's at my place," he said without preamble. "I know your parents are here, but she's a bit upset about you and Nev, so I've said she can stay."

"Why would she be upset? She loves Neville."

"I think she held out hopes of us getting together."

"That's preposterous!" Draco said as he flushed slightly.

"We did manage to produce a daughter, so it's not _that_ preposterous. Anyway, I think it's just one of those dreams kids of divorced parents have, and now that you're marrying someone else she realizes the dream won't come true. Give her a couple of days and she'll get over it."

Malfoy looked like he wanted to argue, but finally nodded. "She's not interrupting your plans?"

"No. I told her she could help me in the shop."

"You're not so hungover that you're going to cut a finger off, are you?"

"Malfoy! I didn't know you cared!"

"I won't have my daughter witnessing anything that gruesome. I'll pick her up from school on Monday?"

"No problem." He walked back out to the floo. "Bye Draco, Neville. Wonderful to see you, Lucius."

Lucius sneered and Harry smiled as he braced himself for the floo home.

 _Grandmother brought me this diary when she visited from France. Everyone has had something to say about it. Grandmother says every girl needs a place to record her thoughts. Grandfather says Malfoys have always had journals because there always comes a time when the wider world wants to know what the Malfoy thought. Daddy told me he kept one the whole time he lived at Hogwarts while I was little and Dad was out saving the world. He says one day people will want to know about the early childhood of The Great Saviour's daughter. I asked if I could read them and he said one day. When I'm older. I wish I was older now._

Harry was proud of Grimmauld Place. They'd used it as a base while searching for the horcruxes in seventh year, with Kreacher and Mrs. Weasley keeping house, but it had stayed dark and creepy through the whole time. After the war he was determined to make a home for his daughter, and one that had links to family, like Sirius. So he'd hired some guys to revamp it and had jumped in to help.

They'd knocked down some walls, painted rooms and changed doors. The place was now light, airy and open but Harry hadn't been able to find furniture he liked, so he made it himself. That was how he found his career – a merging of old-fashioned muggle and magic workmanship for the actual furniture, and newly created charms to make it special. He'd done vanishing cabinets, self-rocking cradles, dining tables that adjusted based on the numbers you had to seat, but he was famous for his ever-expanding bookcases. He'd perfected them for Hermione's wedding present.

In his backyard was his workshop, which looked like a garden shed from the outside but was huge on the inside. That's where he and Mac went after he'd managed to have a shower and get dressed.

"You're not going to cut your finger off are you, Dad? You were pretty sick this morning."

"Does your father send you a message so that you know what to say to me?"

She grinned. "We just think alike. And we both care for you."

"Well, _you_ care for me. Now, what are we going to make today?"

"Something for the baby?"

"I thought so too. Do you want to start a mobile? I'll do a changing table to start with. One that stops the baby squirming while he's on it, maybe. Does that seem like a good idea?"

She nodded and picked up some off-cuts of wood. He watched her from out of the corner of his eye, making sure she was okay, but she'd started whittling at a young age, and the knife was charmed to only cut wood. Though her grandmother considered it an inappropriate hobby for her granddaughter, Mac was quite the artist. And even Narcissa Malfoy melted when her granddaughter gave her a carving of a narcissus flower. They worked in silence and he saw a wolf emerging from the wood in her hands, but it was slower than normal. He used his wand to cut wood to measure and bided his time.

"Why weren't you and Daddy ever together?"

"That's a long story, Princess."

"And you don't think I'm old enough to know it."

Harry frowned. He knew that voice.

"I know that I was an accident, Dad. No one _plans_ to have a baby at sixteen."

Harry began sanding the wood. He could do that and still concentrate on how to handle this conversation. "You know how babies happen. We've had that conversation."

"I don't know how men get pregnant."

"It happens in much the same way, just nowhere near as often. At Beltane the fertility magic is so strong that anyone can fall pregnant if their magic and the magic of their partner is strong enough. Draco sought me out at Beltane."

He didn't share the rest of the night with his daughter, but he remembered clearly the boy who'd taken his hand. He'd been wearing a mask, they all were, but Harry could make out brown hair and eyes. He'd had a hunch it was Ernie McMillan, but the body was all wrong. This boy was wiry muscle and thin lines, with an arse that spoke of clutching a broom between his thighs. He'd dragged Harry through the fires and out into the forest where they'd tumbled onto the carpet of dead leaves.

Harry hadn't known what to do, had been afraid of finishing in seconds, but the boy had guided him through it, shown him how to touch and stretch and lick and leave them both desperate and panting. The boy had had a tattoo of a silver dragon on his shoulder and Harry curled over his back and licked it as he'd thrust his hips again and again.

Then nine months later that same tattoo had told him that it was Draco he'd been with that night and five minutes later he'd held his daughter in his arms.

"Our magic made you. And yes, it was unexpected, but that doesn't mean you were unwanted. I found out about you five minutes before you were born, but as soon as I held you I knew I'd do anything for you." He saw a tear drop onto the wood in her hands and he moved quickly to take it from her and gather her into his arms.

"My whole life up to that point, and even after, had been one long line of things I couldn't control. Everyone else made choices for me: my parents' death, Dumbledore making me live with the Dursleys, having to kill Voldemort. All because of some stupid prophecy made before I was even born. You were the first thing that happened in my life that was outside of my control that brought me _joy_. Every time I saw you, every time I _see_ you, my heart just fills with love for _you_."

"Dad! You're being soppy!" Harry brushed a lock of hair behind her ear so that he could see her smile.

"You were the reason I kept fighting, Princess. I couldn't have you growing up in a world under his threat. And it was the same for your father and grand-parents."

"They fought for the other side, right?"

"They didn't think they had a choice; Voldemort would have killed them if they'd swapped sides. But with a beautiful granddaughter to think of, they risked it all and changed sides. For you. They sent us intelligence and saved my life during the final battle and since I couldn't have done it without them, that makes _you_ the most important person in the war, as well as the most important person in our lives."

He was glad to see she was smiling; none of this was easy for a nine-year-old to hear, though she had to know before Hogwarts and the stories she'd likely hear there.

"That doesn't explain why you and Daddy never got together."

"I don't know, sweetheart. Maybe we could have if we'd _been_ together, but there was a war on. I was off searching for horcruxes and he was at Hogwarts looking after you. We barely knew each other, and we'd hated each other for five years beforehand. How could we be together?"

"You know each other now."

"Yes. And I know he's in love with Uncle Neville. And he deserves to be happy, McKenzie, so try to be happy for him."

"Okay, Dad. I'll try."

 

 _It's not that I don't want Daddy to be happy, it's just that Dad seems so_ unhappy _. And he doesn't know it, but he smiles more when Daddy's around._

Harry didn't want to admit it, but his conversation with Mac left him unsettled, and he spent his time after Mac went back to the Manor moping around the place in a way he hadn't since the war ended. It wasn't healthy and he had orders that weren't getting done while he spent his time pining for what could have been.

What he hadn't told Mac – what he hadn't told anyone – was how _Draco_ kept him going through those long years searching for the horcruxes. He'd go back to the school to check in and find Draco with McKenzie in his arms and for just a moment Draco's eyes would light up and leave Harry's heart racing. At first Draco would hand Mac to him and step away, keeping a safe distance until he, Ron and Hermione left again. But Harry started seeking him out, wanting to know about the first time she rolled over, the first time she crawled, her first words.

He still remembered the day they walked in through the main doors. They'd been to Gringott's and had escaped on a bloody dragon, which dropped them off on the Great Lake. Madam Pomfrey ran out to help Hermione and Ron who were covered with burns and McKenzie ran out on unsteady feet to greet her Dad. It was the first time they'd shared that smile of pride at the amazing being they'd created. That smile was so familiar now.

He hadn't thought of Draco like this in years. The war had ended, leaving them all drained and wounded. He'd healed with Mac at his side, but Draco had stayed away and Harry had taken that as an answer to an unasked question. He'd put his feelings aside and built a home for Mac and a career for himself and if he'd never even looked for love, well, he had a family and that had always been his heart's desire.

Finally, after a week of keeping his floo closed and ignoring Hermione's owls, she turned up at the door to his workshop.

"You know, if you hadn't started avoiding me I wouldn't even have realized there was a problem."

"Sorry. I just needed a little time."

"Yeah. Neville visited last week." She wandered around the workshop, running fingers over various finished and half-finished pieces and he was thankful she didn't look at him. "It brought back memories?"

"More like dreams I still held onto by a thread that are now forever denied."

"How very eloquent, Harry."

"I've been stewing about it all for a week."

"You could tell him how you feel," she said gently. "I know you think he never felt the same way, but maybe he was waiting for you to say something. And this is your last chance."

"No it's not, Hermione. My last chance was long ago."

"But-"

"Hermione, you've seen the way Neville looks at him. You really think I'd say something and hope that he broke Neville's heart? If I was going to say something it should have been years ago, not when he's planning his wedding to another man."

He met her eyes then and saw in them that he was right, even if she didn't want him to be. She was the only one who'd figured out how he felt about Draco after the war. She'd pushed him to tell but still supported him when he said he didn't want to risk the tentative yet civil relationship they'd built for their daughter. _He'll be part of my life for the rest of my life. I won't risk it being uncomfortable for Mac,_ he'd said, and like the true friend she'd always been she'd stepped back and let him be. She'd let him be now as well.

"Well, you can't just mope around, Harry. Why don't you write him a letter?"

"Didn't I just say I wouldn't tell?"

"This is something my Muggle cousin told me. She's into Wicca - Muggle witchcraft – which is all a load of hogswallop, but this has some connection to psychotherapy, I guess, and could be a good way to let go."

He just stared at her with eyebrows raised until she got to the point.

"Sorry. Write a letter addressed to Draco and put all your feelings in there. Everything you've ever thought from hating him in first year, to what happened at Beltane and during the war and after the war. Everything you've ever wanted to say to him. Include what you're feeling now. Sign it and think about everything you've written. Then… burn it. And as it burns, all the feelings will be released along with the smoke."

"Released with the smoke?"

"Okay, that's the ridiculous part, but writing down what you're feeling will help."

"Fine. I'll try it. Happy now?"

"I will be if you say you'll come to dinner tomorrow night."

"I've got Mac."

"Perfect! Rose will be over the moon."

The more Harry thought about writing it down, the more it seemed like a good idea, so he left the stain to dry and went to his desk.

 _Dear Draco,_ he wrote, then paused, chewing at the end of his quill. He scrunched the paper into a ball and threw it on the fire.

 _Draco,_ he started again. _I wish it were different…_

It felt like hours before he put his quill down.  
 _I think Dad mustn't have realized I was at his place today, which is odd since he normally notices the wards shift. But he left without saying goodbye and without sending me back to Daddy's. But that's not the point of this entry. The point is I went into the study to look for him and I found a letter on his desk. I feel a little bad for reading it. Dad always says privacy is important, unlike Daddy who I think would read my diary if Grandmother hadn't made sure it only opened to my command. But it wasn't folded up or anything, it was just sitting there with Daddy's name at the top. To make it up to him I took it back to Daddy's place and left it on his desk. Delivering it was the least I could do._

It was a week since the letter had disappeared off his desk while he'd been out collecting a small child from a malfunctioning vanishing cabinet. Since Draco hadn't turned up to yell at him Harry figured that it hadn't magically ended up in his hands. Kreacher couldn't send anything by owl without it being sealed and franked by Harry, and letters didn't just apparate to the person they were addressed to, so Harry chose to believe that the gods Hermione's Muggle cousin prayed to had made it disappear, even if they didn't take any of his feelings of loss and longing along with it.

Still, Draco had been avoiding him and after six years of speaking every couple of days about plans with Mac and what she'd been up to, Harry was feeling the loss keenly. He was getting scribbled notes sent by owl and messages via Mac. It was very odd.

Finally, after a week and a half of silence, Draco turned up in his house and in a panic.

"Harry!" he yelled, running down to the kitchen. "Harry! Is Mac here?"

"I haven't heard her come in. Kreacher, have you seen her?"

The house-elf turned from the stove. "No, Master Harry. The young Miss has not visited."

"Why? What's wrong?"

Draco handed him a note and Harry quickly saw that their princess had run away. "You've checked the Manor?" Draco nodded. "I don't understand. I thought she was coming to terms with your marriage. It doesn't make sense."

"Harry! Let's just Portkey to her."

The three of them each wore a signet ring. If Harry and Draco touched theirs together it would Portkey directly to Mac's. The touching part was a concession, since neither quite trusted the other to tell if something was wrong. This was the first time they'd used it. Harry clasped Draco's hand in his and felt the tug at his navel.

They found themselves in a dusty room. It had a table and a couple of chairs and on the table was a note curled inside a ring.

"She's not wearing it."

"She's too smart for her own good," Draco said.

"She gets that from you."

"Yes. I'm well aware her intelligence is from my side of the family." They shared a grin until Draco looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. "What does the note say?"

"'I'm sick of being the go-between. Work it out. I'll be back by sunset. Love Mac.'"

"That little brat. She gets that from _your_ side."

"I know. So are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." Draco wandered over to the window. "I know where we are. It's an abandoned farmhouse just outside the Manor boundaries. She must have taken a horse out first thing."

"Will she be alright?"

"One of the elves would have gone with her. She'll be fine."

"Okay. How are we going to punish her?"

"Do we have to punish her for looking for our attention?"

"We should punish her for scaring the shit out of us."

"Obviously something's wrong. We need to find out what it is."

"She told us what it is. She wants you to stop being a prat and speak to me again. So. Please tell me what it is I've done wrong so I can apologise and we can go back to you prancing in at regular intervals and insulting my clothing choices and the way I let Mac play football, and I can generally ignore you since at least my hair doesn't require a spell to stay styled."

Harry grinned and waited for the insult to come, but then he noticed Draco's hands were clenched into tight fists and he was struggling to keep his breathing calm.

"Draco?"

"We can't go back, Harry. There's no back to normal after this. Why?" Draco turned and Harry felt his heart clench at the pure emotion that was in Draco's eyes. "Why now? It's been six years since the war ended? Why wait 'til I'm engaged and happy and finally moving on with my life before you tell me?"

"I don't know-" Harry stopped when Draco pulled something out of his pocket and threw it at him. It was his letting go letter and it looked like it had been folded and refolded and kept in a pocket for the last week and a half.

"I didn't want to know, Harry. I wanted to know six years ago when they let Mac visit you but wouldn't let me. I wanted to know when I was deciding where to go after Hogwarts and wishing it could be to Grimmauld Place with you. Hell, I wanted to know nine years ago when I wrote you a letter every fucking day you were off saving the world and I was left raising our daughter and you not only didn't reply, you didn't even acknowledge that you'd got them. I got the message then, Harry, and now that I'm not just waiting for you, you decide you want me. Fuck you, Potter. Maybe when Mac's ready to get married I'll manage to be in the same room as you. Until then, leave me the fuck alone."

"Draco, wait! What letters?" But it was too late, Draco was gone.

He had a hunch where Draco had got his letter from and he'd be talking to his daughter about respect for privacy once she got back from her ride. But Draco's letters were another mystery entirely.

Harry sat down at the table, the crumpled letter still in his hand. He whispered, " _Incendio_ " and watched the words go up in flames and prayed that the smoke would carry all the pain with it.

 

 _The fact that I'm grounded isn't really the punishment. It was the way Dad said he was disappointed I'd invaded his privacy, and that my meddling had really upset Daddy. And then he said he'd never wanted to have to ward anywhere in the house from me, but if I couldn't respect him he'd have to. Then he said I had to apologise to Daddy. After I returned my mount I found Daddy straight away. He was having an argument with Grandfather and I overheard him saying that Neville was from a better family and was a far more worthy partner for a Malfoy but I didn't eavesdrop more than that and they stopped talking when I knocked. I told Daddy that Dad hadn't wanted him to get the letter and it was my fault and I was sorry for causing problems and that Dad had already grounded me. He just nodded. Didn't hug me, didn't say he forgave me or anything. Just nodded. It was Grandfather who gave me a hug before I walked out. I don't like it when I ruin everything._

Draco had probably been sending the letters to Grimmauld Place, which had been their base of operations during the war. Kreacher didn't know anything about any missing letters which meant he had to speak to Molly, who had moved in after the Burrow was destroyed.

He flooed to the new Burrow and called out for her. She was baking cookies and they exchanged pleasantries before he got down to what he'd come for.

"I was talking to Draco the other day, Molly, and he mentioned some letters he'd written during the war. I think they were sent to Grimmauld Place and I was wondering if you knew anything about it."

He didn't know what he'd been expecting. He thought she might say the place was warded against owls so the letters were probably lost, or that she didn't know anything about them. He hadn't expected her face to blanche or the spoon to go clattering out of her hand.

"Molly?"

"You were fighting a war, Harry. You didn't need distractions."

"They were letters from my child's father. They probably had stories about Mac crawling and sitting and playing that I was just dying to hear about. Why hide them?" She didn't say anything and he realized. "You read them."

"Just the first one, Harry. He's a _Malfoy_. He might have been asking for information about where you were or what you were doing. His father was a _Deatheater_."

He hadn't felt this sort of anger since the war's end. He thought he'd conquered it with the calming joy from working with his hands and the overwhelming love he felt for his daughter. But this rage reminded him of losing Sirius and he realized it was the same. Because of Molly, he'd lost Draco.

He took a calming breath, counted to ten, but he was still barely holding it together when she spoke again.

"You're a hero, Harry, and you deserve so much better than Draco Malfoy. He didn't even fight in the battle. He ran away."

"He didn't _run away_ ," Harry said, though somewhere in the back of his mind he realized he was shouting. "I _saw_ him that night. He covered a retreat against those bloody _Carrows_ that allowed the younger kids to escape. That allowed _my daughter_ to escape! He's as big a bloody hero as I am, and I love him and you've taken that away!"

He felt a hand on his arm and shook it away, only to have it grip harder. "I don't know what you're angry about, Harry, but I'm not going to allow you to shout at my mother."

It was Charlie and his steady voice filtered through to Harry's brain.

"I thought you wanted me to be happy?" he asked softly and Molly looked like he'd dealt her a physical blow. He turned on his heel and apparated straight back to his study where he immediately reached for the Scotch.

He was well on his way to a very morose and drunken night when the Weasley owl flew through the window. He considered ignoring it, but taking out his mood on the owl wasn't going to do anything so he untied the parcel and sent the creature away with a treat. Then he contemplated the package. He thought about burning it, but he caught a whiff of chocolate chip cookie and decided that just because he ate the bribe didn't mean he was forgiving anyone.

Besides, he needed some sort of food in his stomach with the amount of alcohol he'd planned to consume.

He opened the box and found two more boxes inside. One was clear and he could see the cookies inside it. The other was wooden and decorated with a dragon curled around the Black coat of arms. He vaguely recognized it; it had been displayed in the drawing room when he visited before fifth year. He opened it and inside was a stack of letters, far more than it looked would fit in the small box. They were wrapped with a length of green ribbon and a card on the top said _I've saved them all these years. I'm sorry I didn't have the courage to give them to you then. Love, Molly._

The one on top was dated two days before the final battle. He slipped the bottom one from the pile and discovered it was dated the day after Dumbledore died, the day he, Ron and Hermione had set off on their search for the horcruxes.

 _I don't have much to say, Potter,_ it read. _Just remember you have a daughter now. Don’t get yourself killed._

Harry settled back into his armchair and began to read.

 

 _I don't know what happened, but now Dad and Daddy are both upset, and we haven't been to visit Gran Weasley in weeks. Dad keeps sitting in front of the fire and reading these old letters that he stores in a box. Daddy has just one that he keeps in his chest pocket. He mutters when he's reading it. He says,_ he didn't get the letters _and_ he still loves me _but then he sees me and he stops talking. At least he's hugging me again, even if it always feels like he's looking somewhere far away. But tonight's Beltane, and I'm going to tie a pink ribbon around the hawthorn tree and wish that they were both happy again._

Harry stood at the edge of the field in Hogsmeade where the Beltane celebrations were being held. Molly had apologized in person and then taken Mac home with her so Harry could enjoy his night. Unfortunately, he wasn't enjoying his night at all, because the person he wanted to enjoy it with wasn't speaking to him.

Also, because the person he wanted to enjoy it with was marrying a very close friend of his, so he had to stop thinking of enjoying anything with said person.

He eyed the tree he was standing next to and considered banging his head against it.

He'd sent Draco a letter. An apology, from Molly and himself. He'd wanted to ask if they could try again, or try for the first time, really. He'd wanted to tell him that Neville would never love him the way Harry did. He'd wanted to beg Draco for just one kiss to last the rest of his life.

Instead his letter was two sentences. _Molly hid your letters and I never got them; I'm sorry._ And _I love you and want you to be happy, even if it's Neville that makes you so._ Then he finished the damn Scotch and closed Mac's floo so he could spend the next day huddled over the damn toilet bowl.

Hermione had badgered him to come to the celebration – had even bought him the mask for after the kids had gone and the fires were lit – but he planned to run through the fires alone and wish for a new start with this new year. He could see the bonfires growing higher and he reluctantly tied the mask to his face and walked forward.

A lean body, bare-chested and masked, broke away from the crowd and walked towards him. The moonlight glinted off his hair and Harry almost turned around and walked away. But he couldn't; the fires cast shadows over the muscled chest and the lips were parted, inviting, and Harry was rooted to the spot.

"Run the fires with me," he said and Harry tried to pretend it was someone else. He tried to forget Mac and Neville and all the problems this little indiscretion could cause. "We're masked. You don't know me, and I don't know you."

But he did know. He'd know those hands, that hair, those damned grey eyes flaming with lust in the reflection from the flames anywhere. "It's just one night, Harry. One fantasy. Tomorrow we'll go back to being McKenzie's fathers. I'll be Neville's fiancé and you'll be that sad Potter bloke who can't get a date. But we had years stolen from us Harry. Let us have tonight."

Harry could never say no when Draco called him Harry and he stepped forward, threading his fingers through Draco's hair. He held Draco's hand for a moment, looking for doubt or hesitation, but Draco stepped forward and pressed his lips to Harry's. All thought fled Harry's mind and one hand slid across Draco's back, holding him close until all he could feel was a hard body crushed against his own.

Draco pulled back and stepped away and Harry prepared to flee, but Draco only grabbed his hand and ran towards the path between the fires. "Make a wish!" he threw over his shoulder as they threaded through the other couples who'd stopped to snog or stare at the fire, or who weren't as eager as Draco seemed to be. They ran, laughing like schoolchildren, out the field and into the forest that surrounded it.

Harry pushed Draco up against a tree and pressed his thigh between Draco's, moaning at the hard length he could feel. He felt Draco's hands at the buttons of his shirt and he quickly helped, moaning as it dropped from his shoulders and he could feel their chests move against each other. Draco's skin was smooth and hot beneath his hands and he dipped his head to taste the sweat starting to bead on his neck.

"Please," Draco breathed, but then there was a sound behind them and they both froze as a giggling couple crashed past.

"Come on," Harry said, and this time _he_ dragged Draco through the trees until he found a clearing, the ground covered in sparse grass and decomposing leaves. He froze and Draco kept moving, pulling him along.

"What?"

"You'll get dirty."

"It's Beltane. A night of wild passion. What's a little dirt?" Draco stepped in close and pressed his hand to Harry's crotch, leaving Harry feeling rather weak at the knees.

"God, what you do to me."

"What do you want me to do to you?" Harry's eyes had drifted shut and he concentrated on the feel of Draco's finger dragging down his chest and over his abdomen. He leaned forward, searching for those lips, but found only air and when he opened his eyes again he saw Draco was kneeling at his feet, fingers fumbling with his fly. Harry reached to help and between them they managed to push his trousers down to his feet. Draco paused and Harry could feel his warm breath mixing with the cool, Scottish air.

He wanted to push forward, wanted to fist Draco's hair and hold him tight while he thrust into the wet heat he promised, but he didn't want to break the spell. So he held perfectly still as a tongue flicked out and tasted the drop of liquid at the tip of his cock.

"I want to fuck you," he murmured.

"You don't want to play first?" Draco asked, a cheeky grin on his face.

"No, I – Oh, God, Draco." Draco had opened his mouth and Harry fought the urge to move or push deeper or fucking _come_ then and there. Harry looked down and as Draco's head moved he could see the blond fisting his own cock in the same steady rhythm.

Harry pushed Draco away and fell to his knees, desperately trying to kiss and disrobe and touch and taste all at once. They managed to fall onto the ground and Harry quickly pulled Draco's trousers away, leaving a beautiful, tempting, _naked_ vision laid out in front of him.

"Draco," he breathed.

"You mean incredibly sexy, nameless stranger."

"I do," Harry said, and he bent to kiss him so that he wouldn't be tempted to whisper the word _Draco_ over and over again like some kind of prayer to the ancient gods of Beltane. He nudged Draco's thighs and was gratified at the way they immediately fell open, inviting Harry to delve between them. He wanted to taste, wanted to know all the most intimate parts of the man in front of him, and he turned Draco onto his hands and knees and pushed apart the globes of his arse until he could lean forward and slip his tongue against that puckered hole and seek an entrance.

Draco moaned like a wanton and blushed like a virgin and begged in breathless sighs for _more_ and _please_ and _need you inside me_. Harry murmured a lubrication charm and pushed his fingers into Draco, licking around them as the blond thrust back.

"Please, Harry. Now." The sound of his name breathless on Draco's lips was enough to drive any thought of teasing from his mind. He pulled away and knelt for a moment, trying to make sure the memory would be seared in his mind until he was old and gray and could barely coax an erection out of his wrinkly cock.

Then Draco twisted and smirked and said "You _have_ used contraception, haven't you?" and it reminded him so painfully of that Beltane a decade ago that he wondered for a second if he was asleep and dreaming of memory and desire woven into one.

He pinched himself, then laughed ruefully at the question and his need to make sure this was real. "I drink a contraceptive potion every Beltane morning, whether I'm planning to visit the fires or not."

"Probably a good plan," Draco said before looking back at his hands.

"Turn over," Harry said and waited with his heart in his throat as Draco didn't move. "Please."

"I don't know."

"It's a fantasy. With a stranger. Let me watch you."

Draco nodded and shifted on the ground until he was on his back, knees pulled up to his chest. "A fantasy wouldn't leave me waiting," Draco said and Harry thrust inside in one long, smooth push. Their moans mingled together and Draco grasped at Harry's shoulders, pulling him down in a fierce kiss.

Part of him wanted to close his eyes so that he could truly concentrate on the sensation of the tight heat that surrounded him. The other part wanted to watch every twitch, every sigh, every flicker of pleasure that passed over Draco's face. He laced their fingers together and rested his forehead against Draco's so that their breath could mingle as he struggled for control.

Draco's legs wrapped around his hips and his heels dug into Harry's arse, urging him to pick up the pace and Harry couldn't resist. It was like the fire they'd walked through had possessed them and he captured Draco's lips searching for something that would soothe him. He shifted his hips and the way Draco's back arched and hands clenched only stoked the fire higher.

"Like that, Harry. Please." Draco tugged Harry's hand between their bodies and wrapped their interlaced fingers around his cock. He watched Draco's eyes drift closed, listened to the choked moans that accompanied every breath. He saw the moment Draco couldn't hold back any longer; the way his eyes widened, the way he bit his lip then released it as if he realized it was safe to vocalize the pleasure that was shooting through his body.

"I love you," he gasped as tight muscles pulsed around his cock, dragging the orgasm from him.

"Harry-" He silenced Draco with a kiss as the final shudders ran through his body.

"Love you." It was a whisper against the silky hair that smelled of Draco – woodsy and citrusy and masculine. Draco's release was slick between them but Harry didn't roll away; he just disentangled their hands and wrapped his arms around the sweaty body underneath him.

A thousand thoughts ran through his mind, a thousand things to say like _sweetheart_ and _love you_ and _smell so good_ and _please don't leave_.

"You smell like sex," is what he actually said.

"Git."

"Yeah."

"I need to go,"

"Yeah."

Harry rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, not wanting to see Draco disappear. He felt fingers ghost across his face and then heard the crack of apparition.

The fantasy was over.

 

 _I know I shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but Uncle George gave me an ear extender and Daddy had looked so upset when he and Uncle Neville had gone into the study that I just_ had _to. I heard Daddy say "I'm sorry. So sorry, Nev. It's just…" And Uncle Neville sounded so sad when he said "I know." Then Daddy said "I've been in love with him for a decade, and it's not fair on you." And Uncle Nev said "No, it's not. You should have told me before we started." And then I heard the floo and I climbed into Daddy's lap while he cried._

It was close to three weeks since Beltane and Harry hadn't seen Draco at all. He'd barely seen Mac – she'd told him that Neville wasn't coming around and she wanted to keep her Daddy company. He would have visited Nev and asked if it meant what he thought it meant if he didn't think he'd get a broken nose for his trouble.

If he'd been able to think of anything _but_ Draco it would have been okay, but instead he spent all his days daydreaming about hunting the man down and kissing him until he promised to never leave. His nights he spent torturing himself with his memories until he fell asleep, hard and unsatisfied. He groaned and rolled onto his back, one arm covering his eyes as if to keep the thoughts away. He heard the floo in Mac's room and sent a prayer of thanks to whoever was listening. He needed a distraction.

"I'm still in bed, sweetheart," he called out. "Come have a cuddle."

He heard her door and his, but didn't open his eyes to the light. She'd take advantage and tickle him if he kept his eyes closed, and it was that sort of fun he needed at the moment. Except she didn't. There was silence for so long he almost opened his eyes, then a weight settled next to him, far heavier than McKenzie. The scent of sandalwood and citrus and _Malfoy_ tickled his nose and long fingers laced through his hand and pulled him to his side until he was spooned behind the lean body, one arm holding him securely in place.

Harry kept still and silent. Waiting.

"I want you to know I broke up with Neville. The morning after Beltane. Before –" Draco stopped and Harry wanted to ask _before what?_ but he kept silent. He'd learned patience somewhere along the line and he didn't want to scare Draco off.

"Did you mean what you said that night?" Draco asked eventually, and his voice sounded so small and insecure that Harry couldn't help but squeeze him and press his lips to that spot where the dragon rested under Draco's top.

"Yes," he said. "Every word."

"Say it again."

"I love you," he whispered against Draco's hair.

"I was going to wait. Give myself some time. See if you'd approach me now that Neville was out of the picture."

"What changed your mind?"

"The fact that you must have made that contraception potion yourself, you prat. And this time round you will massage my sore feet and rub cream on my stretch marks and fetch strange foods at ridiculous hours of the day and night and generally indulge my every wish."

"You mean -?" His eyes were suddenly wide and he could see Draco's blond hair still messy from sleep and the black silk pyjamas he wore to bed. His hand moved to spread over Draco's stomach.

"You didn't notice the tattoo?"

Harry looked at his wrist but there was only the tattoo he'd had inked to his wrist as soon as the war was over. Now that he looked closer it had a shadow that wasn't there before.

"Yes," Draco said, sounding exasperated. "We're having another baby."

"You're not just here because of the baby, are you?"

"It's nice to know the great Harry Potter is insecure as well." Draco shifted until they were face to face. "I'm here because you create art with your hands. Because you smell like sawdust and linseed and apples. Because you're the best father I know and I want us to be a family. Because every time you're near me my heart beats faster and my hands itch to touch you. I'm here because I love you. And I hope you memorized that because it's the last time I'll ever be that sentimental."

Harry slipped his fingers into Draco's hair and pulled him closer and the kiss was a promise until someone moaned and suddenly it was a fire again and all Harry wanted was to be closer with skin on skin and wrapped so close they were one person. Draco pulled away and he knew he whimpered.

"Did you hear that?"

"Dad?"

"Shit," Harry muttered. "In here!" he called out.

"You're going to break it to her like this?" Draco asked.

"Well, it's the first time I've ever wished her back to the manor, but she should know her plan worked."

"Daddy's gone out," Mac said as she pushed the door open. "So I thought – oh!"

"Good morning, Princess," Harry said, trying to ignore the fact Draco's face was buried in his shoulder. "Did you sleep well?"

She approached the bed then stopped, uncertain. Harry held out his free arm and she jumped onto the bed, creating a space between them and burrowing under their arms.

"This is our first group hug," she said. Draco only grunted in response. "But not our last?"

"Not our last, Princess." He met Draco's eyes over the top of her head and smiled as he dropped a kiss on her black hair. Draco leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the same spot. "Now, why don't you get dressed and meet me downstairs for breakfast. We're going to let your Daddy have a nap and you have a new mobile to make."

"Who for?"

"Your little brother or sister."

 

 _I'm glad it happened today. Even though I really wanted a baby brother I didn't want to share my birthday, so it's good he's a week early. They called him Aiden and Dad rolled his eyes and said it was another fire name. My dragon mobile is hanging in his room waiting for him to come home and I like him even though he cries a lot and is pretty smelly. Dad and Daddy keep jumping away from each other when I walk in the room as if I don't know they're kissing. They smile at more than just me. I like it that they're happy._


End file.
